They say there’s a fine line between sanity and madness. That line is gossamer thin. We’re a cigarette paper away from losing it. It just takes a sequence of mini misfortunes. This week, I reached my limit. And, it’s as mundane as it is maddening: not one, but two missed bin collections. Two weeks without a recycling pickup was enough to send me loop the loop. Up all night, jittering with anger and fear or confusing mix of both. Besdies the almost immediate mental health side-effects, it is genuinely horrifying how quickly the evidence stacks up. The wine bottles alone made it look like I’d thrown a couple of hen dos. But no, thats just me on a normal week. Week one was bad enough. The recycling was already full, and I had even more to put out because I’d hosted a Burns Night dinner. I’d kept back the whisky bottle and the Irn-Bru, telling myself it was fine. I only needed to wait a couple of days and I could add them once the …